3.
Onatas scurried
between the slow moving wagons and gossiping crowds. Mud spattered up
his long cowl as he splashed through a puddle and between two of the
small cluster of tents that were still standing. It was a little less
crowded here towards the centre of the camp. A few of the labourers
stood around, unsure of when they were to dismantle what remained,
nervous that the delay was bringing the front line ever closer.
Onatas skipped between them, apologising over his shoulder for
banging into one of the men.
Outside of the high
council tent he stopped to brush down his clothes, the sticky clay
mud refusing to give up its grip on the lower reaches of his robes,
however. He was about to push through the heavy cloth entrance when
something in the mud court his eyes. Now Onatas was no where near
what you could call a hunter, but some prey was easier to track than
others. The most recent footprints in the soft mud came out and away
from the high council, one foot the familar heavy boot favoured by the
labourers or sentries, the other that familiar indent of the wooden
leg, the foot studded with iron nails for grip.
Onatas frowned, he
hadn't expected the council meeting to be over already, but here were
Aesara's prints clearly heading away. And the length of stride spoke
of the pace she had left at. Aesara didn't flee from anything, but
she could certainly storm out with the best. Onatas gulped nervously,
before setting off after the footprints. They led him to the western
flank of the camp, on the edge of a copse of willow trees that swayed
in the uneasy gusts that blew through the remnants of the university
camp.
Here stood just one
tent, patches of dead grass either side speaking of neighbours
recently departed. However, Aesara's large circular tent remained,
twin flags surrounding the entrance that Onatas hesitantly
approached.
“Overseer Aesara?”
he called at the flap of thick cloth that hung over the entrance
opening. “It's me, Onatas”
“I know it's you,
I could here the snivelling twenty paces away” the voice came from
the depths of the tent. The venom of the words was mismatched by the
gentle femininity of their tone, something that had unnerved many a
person before Onatas.
"M...may I
enter? " he stammered
" I'd prefer
you just to shout through the canvas" exasperation
"oh, er, OK.
Well the thing is.... " Onatas began
"Get in here
you dithering simpleton" that unnerving tone again. With a
nervous hesitation, Onatas pushed through the entrance sheet.
Inside he was
immediately struck by the cloying heat pushed out from a small stove
in the corner. Next to the stove was small stool, with a hammock
strung above. These were the only indicators of comfort in a tent
otherwise dominated by various trestle tables, each covered in an
array of papers or weaponry. Onatas gasped, outside of the central
archive, a series of tents under constant guard, he had never seem
so much paper. It would be worth a small fortune, depending on what
knowledge it contained. Onatas shuffled forward to try and get a
glance at a small pile of documents on the table nearest to him, but
was interrupted before he could satiate his curiosity.
"Well?"
Aesara had put down the short blade that she had been polishing and
locked her intimidating gaze on Onatas. Standing at full height she
loomed over most, green grey eyes looking out from behind a ragged
dirty blonde fringe of hair, the rest of which was tied in a tight
ponytail that stretched down her back. She would not be described as
pretty, not least because anyone making such a comment within
earshot risked a beating, but also because of a square jaw and
prominent nose. Broad shoulders tapering to a thin waste gave a
formidable silhouette.
"I er, well
it's, erm"
"You better not
be here on the business of that snivelling weasel"
"Which, er,
one? " Onatas was aware of numerous people to have fallen foul
of Aesara recently.
Aesara snorted a
half laugh in response, "Too many to count these days. You know
the Pro-vice Chancellor insists we are to take the coast road?
Regardless of whether it may cut the Drakhan rear guard or not. He
insists that they'll respect the covenant" another snort "but
let's see if they are so amenable when Senator Stead smashes them in
the coming days" Aesara had instinctively walked towards a
trestle in the centre of the tent. Onatas nervously joined her,
albeit slightly invigorated by the fact Aesara's immediate anger was
directed away from him.
"You, er,
anticipate a decisive victory for the iron Stead?"
"Only a
simpleton would predict otherwise " she cast a glance at her
visitor, "which is why I will need to explain it to you"
Onatas ignored the
jibe, concentration absorbed by the contents of the table, on which
a the largest single sheet of paper he had ever seen. Almost as wide
as the table, and overhanging the top and bottom edges, it was held
down in the corners by various small blades.
"What is this?"
he asked in awe, but with a hint at resentment at the damage the
blades would be doing to the precious Elder paper.
"You have never
seen a map? I thought you apprentices were familiar with all of The
Elder arts?"
"Our training
is indeed broad, but the archives have nothing like this. Where did
you get it?" An imprudent question in retrospect, but Aesara
seemed inclined to humour him.
"I did not find
it, I made it myself." This was said as a matter of fact
rather than with any great pride.
"You have the
gift of Elder writings? " said an astonished Onatas, " I
had assumed you were... er... "
"What?"
eyebrow raised "Illiterate like the other camp followers you
glorious academics deign to employ" the corner her mouth turned
up in a muted smile.
"No, that
isn't what, er"
"I have
protected the university longer than you have been around to snivel
for. Even someone as intellectually unworthy as a mere overseer will
pick up a few words along the way. Anyway, maps are more about
measuring the real world than being locked away in the archive with
your kind" a disdainful glance at Onatas, who again missed the
barb, adsorbed as he was in Aesara's representation of the lands
around them.
“This could be of
tremendous, er, intellectual value” he murmured to no-one in
particular
“It would be if
that damn high council would listen to me. Instead they send the
university to untold danger. As if a broken and dispirited army will
respect some ancient agreement to respect the sanctity of the
academies.”
“You would protect
us, though, overseer Aesara?” Onatas looked up at her “Your
reputation is, er, fearsome”
“What
with? A handful of sentries and, as the pro-vice chancellor put it,
an unhelpful attitude?!”
she strode from the table, again resonating anger. “Anyway, what
was it you wanted?” she snapped.
“It is, er, a
delicate matter” Onatas had hoped to have Aesara in a better mood
before broaching the reason for his presence.
“Go on. I have
little time for advising on matters of the heart, or on whatever pox
you've contracted from those washer boys, mind you”. She began
piling up some of the papers on another table, pushing some murderous
looking weaponry to the side to make room.
“No, nothing of
that sort. But what do you know of the washer boys?” he reddened,
took a breath and pressed on with his concerns. “It is about, er,
another friend of mine. Siro”
Aesara turned back
to him “The scrawny wannabe scavenger?”, question accompanied by
a frown.
“That's him. Well
I can't find him” Onatas fidgeted under the overseer's gaze.
“T'is easy to lose
someone in the tumult of a camp preparing to move” she sat back on
the table, which creaked.
“He's not in the
camp. I mean he was, but he hasn't come back these last two nights”
“Why did he leave
the camp” the frown deepened as she strode to a different table,
pushed some papers aside before finding the one she was looking. “As
I thought”, she held the paper aloft, “he's not made it on to the
roster yet. And even if he was, we stopped the scavenge runs to
prepare for the move”
“I know” Onatas
sighed, looked down to try and collect himself “It's my fault”
“It'll be your
fault that you have one of my knives poking out of your arse in a
minute” Aesara had little time for rambling monologues.
Onatas looked back
up. “Sorry. Well, er, I've been on rotation in the medical facility
this last cycle” Aesara picking up a frighteningly long knife
interrupted his thought process “No, please, this is important.
While there, I saw how low we were on equipment. Some...sometimes we
apprentices can forget about the realities of camp life in the
current, er, environment. Well I wanted to try and do something about
it, I had a plan for a new way of making dressings last longer. But
to prove it I would need supplies”
“So you needed a
suggestible scavenger?” the conclusion to this tail was already
forming in Aesara's mind.
“Siro wanted to
help, wanted to, well, prove himself worthy of the roster. I could
show my professors that I can apply my studies to the benefit of the
camp, and Siro could prove himself as a Scavenger. We thought it
worked for both of us” Onatas looked back down, the retelling of
the story bringing back the mounting guilt.
“But it would only
work if he got back safe” Aesara mused, then returned to the map
table “Come here” the demand saw Onatas quick to scurry over.
“Where did he go, show me” she banged the map with the heal of
her hand.
“I, er...”
Onatas screwed his face in concentration, “so if the camp is, er.,
here...” he pointed at a clump of tents drawn in the centre of the
page with university camp written in a rough hand next to them “then, er, we,
er....”
Aesara growled in
frustration “you can't read a map”
Onatas was silent in
response.
“Which side of the
camp did he leave from?” a question greeted by more silence “can't
have been across the river without a raft, so was it back past my
tent and into the willows? No, you snivelling whelks wouldn't have
risked that. So the main cart route, or down through the rock marsh?”
“Oh, a marsh, I
remember Siro talking about that area being patrolled less” Onatas
perked up at the memory.
Aesara frowned, no
area of the camp should have been patrolled less. She'd need to check
her sentries' schedules when she had a moment. But now for the task
at hand. “Well he wouldn't have been dumb enough to head straight
for the Drakhan lines, which would mean he'd need to curve out
towards the large valley a few miles away” Aesara rested a hand on
her chin as she contemplated the possibilities.
“I hope he didn't
head for that giant swamp monster” Onatas nervously pointed at a
blurry sketch on the map.
“That's an oak
forest” Aesara replied with a look of disdain, before reaching a
conclusion, “if we assume he was funnelled into the valley, then I
might be able to track him. Assuming the Iron Stead doesn't rout the
Drakhan in that direction tomorrow” another moment's pondering,
“then I need to leave immediately”.
“You, you'll go
after him?” hope was building in Onatas
“No one else is
capable” said Aesara as she strode between various tables,
fastening weapons about herself and packing a small leather holdall.
“Tell Hierius to supervise the stowing of my tent, and remind him
that I know it's entire contents. Any more of it ends in the local
market and I'll have his hide” and with that she disappeared out of
the tend in a swish of fabric.
Onatas stood alone
for a second, took a breath then set of in pursuit of the tall
overseer. He had to run hard to catch up, Aesara's long strides
moving her at quite a pace despite the encumbrance of her disability.
An ornate staff had been the last weapon she had fastened about her
person, in this case across her back. Onatas was no warrior, but couldn't help but appreciate the
intricate carving that ran up its side, culminating in a small metal
club at either end, themselves the subject of a delicate engraving. A
relic of a prior life Onatas supposed, certainly not that of an
ordinary overseer, no matter how bad tempered.
“Aesara, there
is......one....more thing” he panted once beside her
“What?” her eyes
remained levelled on the path into the marsh she was headed for.
“Take me with you”
this caused Aesara to halt and turn a withering gaze onto Onatas. He
was just glad that she'd stopped and he could catch his breath.
“And why would I
be stupid enough to do that?”
“I...could....help.
Maybe carry.....your supplies?”
“You can barely
carry your podgy arse. Get back to camp” she set off again
“P...please
Aesara, I want …. to help. I owe....it ….to Siro”
“Help him by
staying out of my way” she was beginning to draw ahead of the
struggling Onatas.
“I have.....some
of the..... Elder learning in....medicine. What if....you find Siro
is...hurt?”
“I've patched up
enough wounded on the battlefield to last two lifetimes”
“Of
sword...thrusts or....hammer blows perhaps....But what if it....is a
broken...leg.....or.....maybe poisoning? Siro always....struggled
with his....mushroom identif...ication”
Aesara stopped once
again, Onatas bent double as stitch gripped his torso. “If I say no
again, will that make you stop?” a shake of the head from Onatas.
“Will you instead seek to follow me?” A nod “And probably fall
to some misfortune that I need to rescue you from whilst putting both
of us in danger?” This nod was more tentative, but a nod all the
same. “So we should cut out the intervening narrative and press on
together” a vigorous nod, accompanied by some wheezed coughing.
“Then it is
decided. But I will not keep marching so slowly” and with that
Aesara disappeared into the overgrowth that marked the edge of the
marsh. Onatas stumbled in pursuit.
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